The correspondent of the “London Athenaeum” gave an interesting sketch of the feeling she created in Frankfort: 

“Dine where you would, you heard of Jenny Lind, when she was coming, what she would sing, how much she was to be paid, who had got places, and the like; so that, what with the exigeant English dilettanti flying at puzzled German landlords with all manner of Babylonish protestations of disappointment and uncertainty, and native High Ponderosities ready to trot in the train of the enchantress where she might please to lead, with here and there a dark-browed Italian prima donna lowering, Medea-like, in the background, and looking daggers whenever the name of ‘Questa Linda!’ was uttered—­nothing, I repeat, can be compared to the universal excitement, save certain passages (’green spots’ in the memory of many a dowager Berliner) when enthusiasts rushed to drink Champagne out of Sontag’s shoe....  In ’La Figlia del Reggimento,’ compared with the exhibitions of her sister songstresses now on the German stage, Mlle. Lind’s personation was like a piece of porcelain beside tawdry daubings on crockery.”

Jenny Lind’s last appearance in Vienna before departing for England was again a lighted match set to a mass of tinder, it raised such a commotion in that music-loving city.  The imperial family paid her the most marked attention, and the people were inclined to go to any extravagances to show their admiration.  During these performances, the stalls, which were ordinarily two florins, rose to fifty, and sometimes there would be thousands of people unable to secure admission.  On the last night, after such a scene as had rarely been witnessed in any opera-house, the audience joined the immense throng which escorted her carriage home.  Thirty times they summoned her to the window with cries which would not be ignored, shouting, “Jenny Lind, say you will come back again to us!” The tender heart of the Swedish singer was so affected that she stood sobbing like a child at the window, and threw flowers from the mass of bouquets piled on her table to her frenzied admirers, who eagerly snatched them and carried them home as treasures.

On her departure from Stockholm for London, the demonstration was most affecting, and showed how deep the love of their great singer was rooted in the hearts of the Swedes.  Twenty thousand people assembled on the quay, military bands had been stationed at intervals on the route, and her progress through the streets was like that of a queen.  She embarked amid cheers, music, and tears, and, as she sailed out of the harbor, the rigging of the vessels was decorated with flags, and manned, while the artillery from the war vessels thundered salutes.  All this sounds like exaggeration to us now, but those who remember the enthusiasm kindled by Jenny Lind in America can well believe the accounts of the feeling called out by the “Swedish Nightingale” everywhere she went in Europe.